


Laura Hollis' New Pet Cat

by BiJane



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Cats, F/F, Flirting, Fluff, Post-Season/Series 01, Useless Lesbian Vampire, Useless Tiny Gay, catmilla
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 07:20:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2842805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiJane/pseuds/BiJane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Dad… How do you feel about pets?”<br/>“What kind of pets?”<br/>“Uh, just a cat.” </p>
<p>Laura heads home to her overprotective father for the holidays, to the house with a firm 'no girlfriends' rule. Pets though, that's fine. Pity Carmilla's a panther.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Laura Hollis' New Pet Cat

**Author's Note:**

> This is just pure cuteness, written as a christmas present for a friend. Not inherently christmassy, but cat-Carmilla! What more could you want?  
> Basically non-canon after the Special, but I don't care.

Laura’s father was overprotective. She’d never pretended otherwise. He wasn’t entirely heartless, however: even if it was easy to feel that way. There were just too many stifling rules.

That was why Laura had chosen Silas. A chance to get away. She regarded the prospect of returning home with mixed feelings: dread at the return of all those rules for her safety, but elation at the chance of seeing her old room and old friends again and even her father: her only close family.

“Hey, creampuff?”

Of course, not everyone had a home, it turned out. Carmilla had lived with her mother, at the university now about to be eaten by an unmentionable evil from the dawn of time.

“Mind if I come with?”

Her father had rules about that, too. He wasn’t intolerant: the rule that had started off as “No boyfriends at the house,” rather quickly became “No girlfriends at the house,” once Laura mentioned where her leanings were.

Equal opportunity stifling. For her ‘protection’, but Laura couldn’t help being annoyed. And it was especially inconvenient, and times like this: she didn’t never want to see Carmilla again.

So she called her father.

“Dad… How do you feel about pets?”

“What kind of pets?”      

“Uh, just a cat.”

A spun tale about a friend who bought a cat only to find out they were allergic later, and Laura expected to go home to find a mat for a cat to sleep on at the foot of her bed. Not that it would see much use, but it gave an excuse.

Laura happily shared her stroke of genius with her vampire roommate, when they were nearly home. At that point, Carmilla just stared. 

“Laura… You’ve seen what I look like when I’m a cat,” Carmilla said. “Kinda a bit big for a pet.”

“But, uh, can’t you go smaller?”

Carmilla stared.

“Guess not, huh?” Laura said.

“Sorry my ability to _turn into a cat_ isn’t impressive enough for you.”

Which was how Laura made it home, accompanied by a black panther about as high as her waist. Carmilla had been human for most of the journey, until they reached the right street. Once they were alone, Carmilla kissed Laura on the cheek, and stepped back to transform.

Laura’s father waited in the garden. He grinned as Laura came into sight, before his eyes bulged at the sight of her companion.

“Hi, Laura,” he said, pointedly looking away from the big cat. “Welcome back,” he opened his arms, and was hugged by his daughter.

“Hi dad.”

Carmilla prowled in a circle around them, glancing up at him. As he stepped back from the hug, he coughed awkwardly.

“I feel like I’m being judged,” he said, as Carmilla continued to stare.

Slowly, the panther stalked her way back to Laura’s side, shifting her weight back and sitting, raising her head. Laura’s father stiffened, apparently afraid: Laura didn’t notice, reach out and petting the spot between Carmilla’s ears.

She purred, shifting her head to better let Laura scratch. Laura chuckled, not quite believing her oft-distant roommate could become this friendly.

“When you said cat,” her father said, hesitating again, “I was expecting a housecat.”

_Yeah, me too_. “It’s alright, isn’t it?” Laura said, “I mean, she’s friendly. Housetrained and everything.”

“…She doesn’t look it,” her father said.

Carmilla looked up: glowered. It was almost impressive just how much her eyes could replicate her usual glare.

“She’s a big softie really, I promise,” Laura said.

Carmilla’s glower turned back to her: she meowed in protest. Laura responded by scratching the tops of her ears again, and the meow became far more contented.

“Will she sleep outside?” her father said, still unable to tear his eyes away from the panther.

Carmilla offered an answer to that, by wrapping herself around Laura’s legs protectively, and glowering once more. Despite his evident uncertainty, Laura’s father chuckled at that.

“I guess that’s a no?”

“She’s safe,” Laura said. “Sometimes steals pillows, that’s it.”

Carmilla meowed her agreement. Laura’s father blinked, looked down, and sighed. He shook his head slowly, and stepped back.

“Fine, she can come in,” he said, “So long as she doesn’t break anything.”

Slowly, Laura and Carmilla headed for the front door. Laura did her best to not trip over her girlfriend; it felt strange to be the tall one, however briefly.

“What’s her name, anyway?” her father said, as they entered.

“Carmilla.”

“Oh,” he paused, “The same as the roommate from hell you mentioned?”

Carmilla hissed; Laura looked down at her, raising her eyebrows. After a moment, Carmilla meowed, and gave the feline equivalent of a shrug, conceding the point.

“Yeah,” Laura said. She chuckled: “Long story.”

Soon they got inside, and upstairs. Unpacking was easier. Laura shut and locked her bedroom door, and Carmilla poofed back to humanity: or inhumanity, as the case may be. Together, they sorted out whose belongings were whose, and tried to work out where to subtly hide Carmilla’s few possessions.

“Well that was humiliating,” Carmilla said, absently.

“I thought it was cute,” Laura said.

She gave a smile. Carmilla’s glare did nothing to dampen it, now she could picture it so easily on a feline face.

“Don’t push it, cupcake,” Carmilla said. “I’m happy to play along, to stay with you, but I’m out of here if you start with any more cutesy.”

“Aww, you’re sure?”

“Completely,” Carmilla said, dropping the last of the things from her suitcase onto Laura’s bed. “And I very much plan to stay here.”

She took a step towards Laura. Ever since learning of her girlfriend’s alternate form, Laura had been surprised by just how cat-like some of her mannerisms were.

“Oh, really?” Laura said.

She chuckled, and momentarily gave up on unpacking, recognizing the flirtatious hint in Carmilla’s voice.

“Really,” and she pressed her lips to Laura’s with a whole journey’s full of pent-up frustration.

The kiss broke only so that Laura could chuckle, and stagger back until she reached the wall: her hands ascended, bunching up in Carmilla’s hair. She’d never get enough of this.

Carmilla chuckled too; a low, husky laugh that sent a shiver down Laura’s spine. Cool hands ran up Laura’s sides, indicating Carmilla was just as enthralled by their mutual explanation.

And then there was a rather loud yowl as the door opened, and Laura opened her eyes to see a giant black cat balanced precariously on its hind-legs, fast toppling back. Laura’s father stood in the doorway, blinking twice, carrying something under his arms.

“I bought this cat-bed,” he said. “For Carmilla. Might be a bit small,” he shrugged, lifting it.

“Thanks!” Laura said, hopping forward to quickly take it. “I- I’m sure we’ll work something out. She’s used to life at Silas, any basket’s luxury.”

Meanwhile, Carmilla pounced up onto Laura’s bed, leaving no doubt as to where she planned to spend the night. She curled up around the already unpacked yellow pillow, kicking a few clothes and piles of unpacked things into the floor.

“Told you she stole pillows,” Laura said, hurrying across to try and sort out the mess. “Bad,” she wagged a finger at Carmilla’s face.

Her father flinched, apparently still wary of the big cat. Carmilla managed to communicate a silent ‘seriously?’ with a glare.

“That’s-” her father said, looking at the clothes Laura was picking up, “That’s a lot of leather.”

Laura looked down. Carmilla’s pile of clothes: she wouldn’t be a cat all the time and, especially if they planned any outings, she’d need some things.

“Um, yeah,” Laura said: laughed nervously. “Joke-gifts from friends, you know how it is. Probably throw them out.”

Carmilla gave a meow of protestation. She did love her leather. Laura threw a particularly tight pair of pants at her.

“Or give them to the cat,” Laura said.

Carmilla tugged them closer, balling them up and curling around them along with the pillow. Though she apparently couldn’t talk in this form, her gestures and manner were enough. Her glower was enough to ensure no one would try to steal anything from her.

“She does seem very…” Laura’s father hesitated, unable to maintain eye contact with the cat. “Are you sure she’s friendly?”

“Definitely,” Laura said. “Well, to most people. She can be protective,” Laura scratched Carmilla’s head fondly. She meowed.

Laura dropped the cat-bed at the foot of her bed. In doing so, she knelt, ostensibly to better position it: and in reality, to mouth an admonishment to Carmilla. The cat purred, apparently not noticing or understanding, and hugging the pillow closer.

Rolling her eyes, Laura stood up again, momentarily surveying her room. It was a mess, but unpacking was more or less done.

She made a mental note to find where her laptop had ended up. She didn’t plan to start up any new recording, but it felt strange to be in her room without the computer peering at her. That, and she really wanted to get a bit of footage as Carmilla as a cat.

And see if she could get whatever box the cat bed came in. She’d seen enough cat videos to know Carmilla should like that.

Oh, the possibilities were so very fun. Ignoring the distinctly mistrustful look from golden cat-eyes she got at her smirk, Laura turned to her father.

“Dinner’s in a couple of hours,” he said. “That’s, uh, if you want a family dinner, after being away. Just us.”

“I’d love to,” Laura said: “Will you mind if I bring Carmilla? Don’t want to leave her alone so soon.”

“Will she knock over the table?” her father said, glancing onto the bed.

Carmilla hissed. He jumped.

“She’ll be on her best behaviour,” Laura said: “Won’t you Carm?”

Carmilla hesitated for a moment, then purred acknowledgement, drooping her head to the pillow. Her father blinked, and shook his head, apparently amazed at how obedient the big cat seemed.

“Almost like she understands you,” he said, appreciatively.

“Yeah,” Laura nodded. “She’s very clever,” a pause, “For a cat.”

Another hiss. Her father jumped, evidently still somewhat afraid of the panther his daughter had brought home.

“Well, I’ll, uh, I’ll be waiting downstairs,” he said.

Rather hurriedly, he left the room. Laura turned back to the bed, to face a sitting, chuckling Carmilla.

“Be nice,” she scolded.

“That was nice, cutie,” Carmilla said. “I just don’t take kindly to interruptions. Thought we’d gotten away from that.”

“There’ll be less,” Laura said. “That’s a promise.”

Carmilla’s grin turned positively feral, and they got very little more unpacking and sorting out done. Somehow, however, they still made it on time to dinner, with Carmilla curling up under the table.

Strictly speaking, she could live on just blood. Still, she appreciated normal food: it was a little more filling, even if the benefits were purely mental. So Laura cut a few slips of meat from her plate, slipping them under the table when her father’s attention was elsewhere.

Carmilla swallowed them with ease, licking Laura’s hand enough that she had to wipe it dry on her chair each time.

When night came, Laura and Carmilla returned to her room. Exhausted from a day of travelling, Laura collapsed onto the bed: a moment later, a now-humanoid Carmilla collapsed beside her.

They lay like that for a few seconds, neither saying much. They faced one another; Carmilla smiled at how Laura’s breathing tickled.

Idly, Laura ran one hand up Carmilla’s side. She blinked, mumbling to herself: Carmilla chuckled, evidently guessing at some less innocent motivation.

“Carm,” Laura said, slowly.

“Mm?” a smirk.

“What happens to your clothes?” Laura said.

Carmilla blinked, ecstatic grin giving way to bafflement.

“I mean, when you transform,” Laura said, quickly. “You’re not all dressed up when you’re four-legged, but you’re not all naked when you turn back either.”

“You complaining?” Carmilla said.

“No- I just…” Laura said; hesitated. “Does it become fur? Is that why you always wear black, so you don’t become a pink panther? If so, you should really try-”

“Beats me, sundance,” Carmilla said. “I just got bitten, never got a vampire handbook.”

“You never got curious?” Laura said.

“Not exactly,” Carmilla said, “There’s a lot more to be curious about anyhow. Besides, I had a lot more on my mind.”

Well, that much was definitely true. There would be a lot more doors open upon the turn to vampirism. Still, turning into a cat had to be high on the list of things to be curious about.

“Can we try?” Laura said, excitedly.

“Try what?” Carmilla said, exhaustedly.

“You know,” Laura said, “Dress you up, see if your fur’s any different. Or if it’s always gloomy and black.”

“…Seriously?”

“Would you rather find out with me, or LaF? You know they’ll be curious.”

“Neither,” Carmilla said. “I’ve got better things to do.”

She reached out; brushed a little of Laura’s hair out from over her eyes. The look in her eyes, the sudden playful smirk, and Laura's mind suddenly felt the desperate need to babble.

"I mean, big cat, makes more sense as there isn't any loss of mass, but-"

Carmilla leaned forward: kissed her. For a few seconds, thoughts fled Laura's mind, quieting her need to share every tiny little thing that came into her mind.

"But it's just, you have to admit it's weird: surely they have to go somewhere? Like, can you transform things other than yourself, is fabric some exception, or-"

Another kiss, another brief, endless, ecstatic moment of silence.

That time, it was a little longer before Laura started talking again. She stared: she watched. Carmilla tilted her head, smirking yet again.

"Not that I mind," she said, "But any particular reason you're staring?"

"Just wondering what'd happen if you dyed your hair."

"Not going to happen," Carmilla hmphed, then chuckled: "Where'd this curiosity come from, and how much is not-quite-as-short, annoying and nerdy paying you?"

"N-nothing," Laura said quickly, "It's- my girlfriend's a giant cat, it's a little weird."

Carmilla laughed: a low, throaty sound that somehow felt comforting. It was odd, just how warm a voice could feel. “Taking after the other ginger now, huh?”

Carmilla turned her over: reaching out with cool hands, so Laura faced away from her. The one disadvantage with dating a vampire was just how cold spooning ended up being.

Then she felt fur against her back: feline warmth, far more heated breath. Carmilla moved closer to her, embracing her between two paws. Apparently her cat form held far more heat.

Laura started laughing as Carmilla's feline head leaned forward: Carmilla purred, softly, uncertainly.

"Your whiskers tickle," Laura said, laughing still.

Carmilla exhaled, breath almost as ticklish, as she shifted position. Laura closed her eyes, a little surprised by how natural it felt, how comfortable.

Like a big, fluffy cushion. Laura bit back a chuckle at how Carmilla would likely respond if she ever heard that comparison.

After a few minutes, Laura turned over: Carmilla, still a panther, shifted to allow her, with no more than a purred grunt.

Every cat Laura had met had a ticklish stomach; she ran her hand over the soft fur of Carmilla's, gratified by the feline equivalent of a laugh that escaped her lips, and how Carmilla flailed.

A moment later, and she was facing a far more human form. A moment after that, and she realized just where her hand was, on a human’s chest, and hastily snatched it back.

"No tickling," Carmilla said.

Laura couldn't help but chuckle at her firm tone.

"Aww, is the big badass vampire ticklish?" Laura said; smiled with perfect innocence.

Carmilla glared, and gave a remarkable approximation of a big cat's growl.

"Fine," Laura said, still smiling: "Fine, I promise, no tickling the centuries-old vampire who is in no way a giant ticklish kitten."

Carmilla continued to glare. Her expression only softened as Laura leaned across, to drop a kiss on her nose.

"Apology accepted," Carmilla said: and leant forward in turn, pressing her lips to Laura's with far more urgency.

About three seconds later Laura flailed, and would have fallen out of the bed if Carmilla hadn't grabbed her arms.

"You alright, creampuff?" Carmilla said, shaking her head and smiling.

"Y-yeah," Laura said. She pulled herself back up, "Just- Can we not? Right now?"

"Sure," Carmilla said, at once: and frowned. "You feeling ok? You usually seem pretty eager to..."

"I know," Laura said. "I know, just-" she waved one hand in lieu of trying to figure out how to phrase what she wanted to say. "It's weird! you're- you're a cat!"

A moment of silence. Carmilla looked at her: blinked once. Then turned, and planted her face into a pillow, shaking. It was only after hesitantly touching her shoulder that Laura realized she was laughing. Hard.

"Sure," Carmilla said, when she felt able to avoid waking the house even without muffling her laughter, "Sure. I'll be relegated to pet cat."

She was shaking her head, apparently amused at herself as much as anything.

"Sorry, Carm," Laura said, "It's not like that, it's just- I keep seeing you as that panther and, well..."

"I get it," Carmilla said, "I know. I'm just pursuing a lot of new career options thanks to you."

Laura felt a momentary pang of guilt, despite the fact Carmilla seemed fine with waiting. Well, immortality would have to teach patience; still, Laura did regret the downright disturbing associations her mind was making.

"It's not that I don't want to," Laura said, quickly, "I do- I mean, I really do," she hesitated, trying to remember what she was saying. "It's- well, there's one bright side?"

"Hm?"

"You do make a very cute cat," Laura said, smiling.

In response, Carmilla transformed again, and Laura tried not to guffaw at how affronted her feline face managed to look. Apparently even cat-Carmilla objected to being cute or adorable, or anything that wasn't badass.

Laura reached out: tickled under her chin, and by Carmilla's immediate purring, it sounded like she was forgiven.

The next morning, Laura awoke to the feel of warm fur all around her. She chuckled, taking one paw, and holding it, savouring the heat.

Realizing she was awake, there was a shift, and Laura felt human lips touch the back of her neck.

"Good morning, sweetheart," a low voice.

"Morning," Laura said, blearily. She tried to blink her eyes clear: "Um, been up long?"

A soft chuckle. With how close Carmilla lay, Laura felt every vibration.

"A while," she said. "Vampire, remember?"

"Oh," Laura said, and jumped; "Oh, uh, I'm sorry?"

"Relax," Carmilla said. "It was fun. You're cute when you're asleep, even if your snores are a pain."

"I don't snore," Laura said, immediately.

Carmilla chuckled, and kissed the back of Laura's neck again, instead of answering.

Slowly, Laura turned over, reaching up to scratch her shoulder. After a moment, she blinked.

"You shed over my bed," Laura said, accusingly, lifting a few loose strands of black fur.

Carmilla hesitated, apparently surprised. She didn’t usually spend too long in her cat form, let alone enough to find out its habits. Quickly, she rolled out of the bed, shaking herself off.

Laura made a mental note to try to figure out how fur didn’t transform back when Carmilla did. Magic stuff was just confusing.

Hurriedly, Laura slipped out of the bed, wincing at the mess Carmilla had made. At least she could explain it via overly friendly panther. It was a much better situation than needing to explain a human woman popping up in her room.

“So,” Laura said, tugging lightly on the fur-covered sheet, “Any tips?”

“What makes you think I’d know?” Carmilla said.

“You’re the cat!”

“Which means I don’t exactly know how to look after one,” Carmilla said. “Besides, didn’t you used to have one?”

“A small one,” Laura said, “A tiny, well-behaved one that barely ever shed. Not a giant panther!”

“You’re the one who thought this was a good idea,” Carmilla said: shrugged.

There was a knock on the door, and Carmilla immediately reverted to cat-form. Laura looked around quickly, before snatching up her dressing gown.

“Is everything ok?” her father said, “Did you call?”

“Everything’s, uh, fine,” Laura said hastily. “Just a few choice words for Carmilla.”

Carmilla meowed loudly at that.

“Are you ok?” her father said, quickly.

“Yeah, fine,” Laura said. “She just started shedding everywhere.”

Carmilla meowed again: Laura quieted her with nothing more than a silent look down. Doing a remarkable impression of sulking, Carmilla buried her head in her paws.

Which was how Laura spent the next few hours with a comb and her sheets, trying to get every last stray hair out. Her father had left her to it, reasoning she’d been the one to want to bring a giant cat home (and being too scared to stay in the room with it).

“This is your fault,” Laura said, looking across the room at the black cat curled up.

Carmilla meowed in response, and returned to humanity.

“You’re the one who wanted a cat,” she said. She was grinning all the while, like it was all a great big game.

Which, Laura supposed, it was. At the very least, compared to how term-time at Silas had been, a little drama and even chores paled.

"You could help," Laura said eventually, when she was maybe a quarter of the way done.

"But this is so much fun," Carmilla said: smiled still, a human now sitting cross-legged against the far wall.

Laura rolled her eyes, returning to work, muttering something about 'once a terrible roommate, always a terrible roommate'. Apparently Carmilla's propensity for mess and clogging up drains with hair wasn't unique to her human form.

"Tell you what," Carmilla said, after a few minutes more. "I'll help you, on one condition."

"Mm?"

"You tell me where you've hidden my stock of blood," Carmilla said, "Could really do with a drink about now."

Blood. Right. Laura hesitated.

"Creampuff?"

"...About that," Laura said, slowly, dimly remembering the rush to escape from Silas.

Everything had been a bit chaotic, with quakes, and ancient demi-gods. Laura was beginning to have the horrible feeling she'd missed a few things.

"Laura," Carmilla said, slowly. "You did remember? Living with a vampire, kinda need blood."

A moment of silence. Carmilla sighed, half-despairing, half-fond.

"It's not my fault!" Laura said, "You try focusing when there's a giant angler fish coming out from the ground, it's very distracting."

"And yet you remembered everything else," Carmilla said. She didn’t sound angry; more amused.

"Most things," Laura said, "Sorry, I've never had to worry about smuggling blood before."

"Yet you're perfectly able to remember you're living with a vampire," Carmilla chuckled, again: "Tell me, how on earth did you and the ginger squad ever manage to plan ahead enough to catch me?"

Laura shrugged, apparently genuinely unsure: Carmilla slumped back against the wall, working out other ways she could feed herself. Generally she worked out the locations of hospitals and blood banks before going in to an area.

It was usually easy to use her vampiric knacks to get in to such places, but generally speaking she needed to be better fed before using them. Same with her cat form, and speed; she'd need blood if she wanted to carry on this deception.

Which she didn't, really, but Laura said it was necessary.

"Might want to figure out where to get some," Carmilla said, momentarily serious. "Transformation's harder when I'm hungry. Unless you've got a panther suit lying around, might be a bit hard to explain," she paused, "O-negative preferred."

Laura rolled her eyes. A fussy eater, great. It probably wasn't immediately pressing, she knew Carmilla could last several days, but it was something to think about.

Ways to get blood. It was a little disturbing to Laura that she had any cause to ponder that: let alone the fact she could think of a handful of answers. Pity they weren't on the Silas campus any longer, they could get almost anything there.

Well, not exactly a pity, even if anything of Silas remained. Just a pain.

Laura looked up: Carmilla was lying with her back to the wall, eyes closed. It was hard to tell whether she was conserving energy, or was just lazy.

"Uh, Carm?" Laura said.

Carmilla's eyes flickered open. She tilted her head.

"How much do you need?" Laura said.

"Not much," Carmilla shrugged. "Probably. Fresher the better."

That made things easier. For a couple of minutes, Laura returned to combing the shed fur from her sheets. It was going faster than she'd expected, at any rate.

And it would be going better if, for once, she could get Carmilla to tidy her own mess.

"So," Laura said, a little hesitantly. "If I let you bite me? That would help?"

"Sure," Carmilla said, eyes cracking open. "Just two problems."

"Yeah?"

"First, you didn't seem too keen on it before," Carmilla said.

"That was one time," Laura said: "Besides, I wasn't expecting it. Kinda hard to focus on anything other than the fact I had a vampire at my throat."

Unconsciously, Laura lifted her hand to her neck, to brush the spot. It hadn't quite scarred, but the spot had always felt a little bit more tender.

"Two?" Laura said.

"Two, who said I'd want to drink from you? You're too sugary for my taste," Carmilla said: smirked.

Laura picked up a pillow and threw it across the room at her. Carmilla chuckled, batted it aside, then pulled herself forward.

“Excuse you,” she said, “I’m delicious,” then, rather promptly, she flushed at what she’d said, and at how Carmilla’s lips curled.

Laura was sitting on the floor, as she played with the loose sheets: sheets she dropped as Carmilla crawled closer.

"Was that an offer?" Carmilla said.

Laura gulped; then nodded. She remembered it not hurting too much: it stung for an instant, but by far the worst thing last time had been the shock.

"Just- not my neck," Laura said, "Don't want to have to explain that."

"Any particularly preference?" Carmilla said; her eyes rather openly flicked down over Laura's body. "I've got a few."

Laura flushed. Quickly, she shifted, offering her side to Carmilla, and pulling one arm out of her top.

"Shoulder?" Laura said, "I'll wear sleeves, should be fine."

"Spoil my fun," Carmilla's eyes ran over Laura's body again: but she didn't complain any further.

Lips pressed against warm skin: a low, amused sound which felt somehow intimate when Carmilla was so close. Laura bit her lip as she felt teeth pierce her skin; it didn't hurt as much as she expected, though.

Indeed, it was almost pleasant, with Carmilla's tongue idly lapping at the wound, cleaning and comforting. Laura exhaled, oddly relaxed.

After a moment or two, Carmilla sat up. She'd taken her time, then: not rushed. Actively sucking blood by, well, sucking was often far more unpleasant than simply piercing the skin, and waiting for it to well up; there was just rarely opportunity for vampires to take their time.

"Feeling better?" Laura said, looking at her shoulder for the first time.

The wound was dry for a few seconds. By the time it began to bleed again, Carmilla had found and pressed a tissue to it.

Her lips were red. It was obvious, really, Laura reflected: it was to be expected, but it still stood out.

"Will do after a glass of water," Carmilla said. "Really, consider cutting down on the sugar."

Carmilla was grinning again, both from a blood-high, and apparently captivation with her own wit.

"Very funny," Laura said.

She slipped her arm back into its sleeve, making a mental note to find a band-aid later.

"Anyway, you promised to help after you had a snack," Laura said. "Get to it!"

"I did, didn't I?" Carmilla said, making a show of reluctance.

Then, sighing, she picked up another comb and sat beside Laura, aiding in the task of getting the sheets clear.

Either Carmilla would have to spend the night human, or curled up in the basket. They wouldn't be doing this again. The bag they’d started filling with loose hair had reached quite an impressive size.

“How much fur do you have?” Laura said, as they neared the end.

“Apparently a lot,” Carmilla said, seemingly proud.

Laura rolled her eyes. Of course Carmilla wasn’t bothered by making a mess. Of course.

All things considered, it was a miracle she’d talked Carmilla into doing a chore for once. Maybe she was softening, maybe she just knew it probably wouldn’t be best for her to leave the room.

Just as Laura was finishing, there was a knock on the door, and her father walked in. Immediately, Carmilla turned into a sitting panther: she turned her gaze to him, he stepped back.

As wary as he seemed of the cat, however, his overprotectiveness didn’t kick in. Laura guessed he agreed that Carmilla would be a perfect guard cat: or, possibly, he didn’t fancy his chances at trying to get her out of the house.

“I was wondering how you were getting along,” he said: paused. “It might be best if you didn’t have the cat in the room, while you’re trying to clear up her fur.”

“It’s fine,” Laura said. She gave a very fake-sounding laugh. “She’s well-behaved. She’s keeping out the way.”

As if on cue, Carmilla strode over the sheets, and licked the side of Laura’s face. Laura jumped: Carmilla regarded her with what passed for an innocent expression.

“Looks it,” her father said.

Carmilla ran her tongue up Laura’s cheek again, before wandering off the sheets, to sit beside her. She purred, rather demandingly; chuckling, Laura scratched the back of her head, between her ears.

“We’re almost done,” Laura said. “And I’ve had a long talk with her, I don’t think she’ll be making a mess again, she’s very obedient.”

Carmilla gave a meow of protestation. Laura scratched her head again, smiling at how easily the panther gave in to purring.

“Even if she doesn’t always like to admit it,” Laura said.

“…Right,” her father said, after a moment. “Well, good luck.”

A few minutes later, and the sheets were clear. Carmilla helped remake the bed, and their only chore was done.

They went out for a walk, after. It was something Laura liked doing: she’d enjoyed the walks she’d managed at Silas, but there had never been much opportunity at home, no matter the time. No matter what self-defence classes she took, or what (possibly illegal) weapons she brought with her, her father very rarely let her walk alone.

The presence of a panther changed things, however. After, at her father’s insistence, managing to get Carmilla into a collar and leash (something Laura had to bite her lip to not laugh at), she was allowed to go outside. Once they’d turned the corner, Carmilla turned back into a human, and very nearly tore the collar to pieces.

That was how they spent the day. They were out, away from the need to keep secrets, where they could relax. It was somehow refreshing to have a chance to act like an actual couple.

After a fair few hours, they headed back to Laura’s home. Carmilla was coaxed back into the collar as she turned to a cat, and they wandered back around the corner, and up the garden.

It wasn’t long before dinner came again. As before, Carmilla lay herself down beside the table, luxuriating, stretching, and keeping her head where Laura could drop cuts of food.

That time, it lasted maybe a minute. Laura idly cut a small piece of meat, with a bit of sauce smeared on it, and let it drop beside her. Carmilla gulped it up, and immediately a retching, very human, woman was on the floor.

“Garlic,” Carmilla tried to spit it out, voice hoarse. “Nice creampuff, real nice.”

Laura froze, not quite sure how to react. Her father was staring, apparently as shocked as she. Laura toyed with the notion of jumping up as though she didn’t have any idea Carmilla could get around on two legs just fine.

“…That’s some cat,” her father said, after a moment.

“Um,” Laura said, slowly. “Uh, dad. You know Carmilla.”

A moment of silence. He was staring, in rather understandable disbelief of what he’d seen. Laura suppressed the urge to wave her hand in front of his eyes, to see if he’d react to anything.

“So, yeah,” Laura said, slowly. “She’s kind of a vampire. And kind of my girlfriend. And turns into a cat. Um.”

He was still staring. Laura hoped he’d heard her.

As overprotective as he was, Laura half-expected him to announce he had a room full of stakes and crucifixes. Apparently that had slipped his mind, judging by how he was still frozen.

Maybe he was just running over the milieu of supernatural threats he might have neglected to be prepared for, and debating the cost of silver bullets. Laura wouldn’t be surprised by that. Just so long as his suffocating protectiveness let Carmilla stay.

“I swear, she’s nice,” Laura hurried to continue, as the silence dragged on. “I mean, not just as a cat. She was my roommate, and I’m still alive, so… Thanks to her actually, long story. And I’d really like her to stay, really, really. And not just as a cat, that’s been… confusing. And I know how you feel about bringing dates back, but she really doesn’t have anywhere else, and- well she means a lot to me, and I’d really like it if she could, well, keep staying.”

Laura stopped there, to inhale as much as anything. Carmilla paused from gargling water to glance across, mildly impressed by Laura’s lung capacity.

Very slowly, her father began to react. He frowned, turning backward to face the vampire: Carmilla lifted a hand, and waved rather patronizingly; then she walked back to stand by Laura, apparently recovered from her brief garlic contact.

He paused, again, this time looking back to his daughter. He spoke, in a faint, possibly strangled tone.

“A vampire?” he said.

Hesitantly, Laura nodded. She tensed for the next, silent moment.

Then he started laughing, hard. Laura jumped as though he’d shouted: he didn’t notice, almost doubling over with the force of his laughter, one hand supporting him on the table. Laura’s eyes darted from side to side, not entirely sure how to respond.

He was shaking, at something apparently only he found hilarious. His shoulders shuddered, his head shook with distracted disbelief.

“A vampire,” he said, again, laughing only slightly less. “Of course. Only you…”

He paused, to laugh again.

“She’s a good vampire,” Laura said, quickly. “Terrible roommate, nice vampire.”

She seemed genuinely worried by how things would play out. Carmilla, instead, simply raised her eyebrows in mild impatience, indifferently waiting for some answer.

Eventually, Laura’s father quietened. Standing straighter, he looked across to Carmilla; he frowned. Still, he didn’t seem especially wary, no doubt concluding Carmilla wasn’t dangerous: or at least, wasn’t to them.

If she wanted to hurt anyone, she’d had countless opportunities. That, and his daughter’s judgement had to count for something.

“You won’t hurt her?” he said, to Carmilla.

“Never,” Carmilla said, quickly.

“And you’ll protect her?”

Carmilla laughed. “Have you met Laura? She doesn’t need it.”

A moment of silence; he winced. Still, he nodded, apparently conceding the point. Those self-defence classes were good for something.

“I don’t like being lied to,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” Laura said, by instinct: Carmilla took her hand, reminding her there was no need for an apology. “I didn’t know how you’d react.”

“I’m fine with you liking-”

“Not that,” Laura said, “I meant to bringing her here, to, well, vampire. You were afraid I’d be attacked by bears at Silas, which admittedly there were a few of, then I brought a vampire home, it was…”

Her father hesitated.

“I want you to be safe,” he said: and lifted a hand when she tried to speak. “I don’t mean to- My only concern is your survival. Your safety. If you’re sure she’s-”

“She saved my life,” Laura said, simply, and paused. “A lot.”

“Then that’s good enough for me,” he said. “Just, no more lies, ok?”

“Ok,” Laura nodded, exhaling in relief. That went… well, she guessed.

She wasn’t sure what she’d have done if things had gone badly. She didn’t want to leave Carmilla, but it would be a struggle to live anywhere: and as stifling as her father could be, she enjoyed their moments of connection.

A promise for no more lying worked, especially if it meant Carmilla could stay in the house: and not stay as a cat. The novelty of a pet panther girlfriend wore off quite quickly, to be replaced by mess and a few too many confusing thoughts.

“Ok,” her father said: he sighed also, apparently just as tense as Laura. “So. How did the two of you meet?”

“You know the story,” Laura said, while Carmilla went to get herself a chair. “Old roommate Betty vanished, Carmilla moved in after-”

“Uh, Betty,” her father said, “She vanished, that wasn’t anything to do with…”

“Carm?” Laura said, and shook her head. “Oh, no, no.”

“Just my psychopathic vampire mother,” Carmilla said, sitting herself down at the table, “And her cult worshipping a demonic light wanting sacrifices, of course.”

Both Laura and her father stared at her; her father’s expression seemed a mix between fear and disbelief. After a few seconds, re-evaluating most of his life knowledge in the face of the fact he’d seen a cat turn into a human, and that Carmilla didn’t seem to be kidding, he eventually managed to unfreeze.

“Ok,” he said, faintly. “No lies. Just… maybe a few omissions? Please?”

Carmilla took Laura’s hand under the table, and slowly the two of them began to recount a heavily sanitized version of their year at Silas. They ate while doing so, Carmilla abstaining.

When dinner and introductions were complete, Carmilla and Laura went to what was now their shared room. Carmilla trudged along on two legs, for a moment moving to lick her arm, before catching herself, and lowering it. Apparently certain behaviours lingered.

Things had gone fairly well: and honesty was refreshing. Her dad knew a little about Silas, if not all the details of its weirdness, and he seemed fine with the fact she was dating a vampire. He’d even agreed to let Carmilla continue to live with them, though that might have been to avoid getting on the wrong side of the person who could turn into a giant panther.

That, or he knew his opinion ultimately wouldn’t affect them.

They lay on the bed, relaxing for the moment, basking. Idly, Laura lifted her hand, began to stroke Carmilla’s hair; the vampire quickly pulled away.

“No more of that,” Carmilla said. “Human now, remember?”

“Aww,” Laura chuckled: “Don’t you like being a cat?”

“In small doses,” Carmilla said. “Had a bit much of it.”

She leant sideways, to drop a kiss of Laura’s cheek. As she rolled onto her back, again, she pulled Laura with her, hands on Laura’s hips.

“Besides,” Carmilla said, voice lower, “I can think of a few advantages to humanity, can’t you?”

Laura flushed, immediately: in lieu of talking, she lowered her lips to Carmilla’s. Carmilla smirked, her hands falling from Laura, back to the bed.

“That a yes?” she still smirked.

“Yeah,” Laura said. She bit her lip: “Just-”

“Just what, cupcake?”

“Just be a cat sometimes?” Laura tilted her head. “Pretty please? It’s cute!”


End file.
